Pure and Untainted
by MissMiseryLeigh
Summary: After a fatal accident, Elizabeth had been left with a hard decision. Did she lose her child before she even go to know him, or did she give his soul to the man standing at the side of the hospital bed, introducing himself as Lucifer? What would a mother do to save the life of her child? Mentions of abortion. M for future.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N This is the prologue to an AU Demon fic that I am going to be writing. It is Elizabeth's side of the story leading up to the birth of her son. If you want me to continue on to the main story, or if you have any comments, please leave a review.**

If years ago, you had asked Elizabeth what she wouldn't have done for her career, her answer would have been a simple "nothing". However, nine months and one very bad decision later, her answer could not have been more different. You see, Elizabeth aspired to become a Broadway star, she was trekking an ambitious path to stardom. She had an amazing voice, a wonderful personality, and beauty beyond compare. Ever since her graduation from the prestigious NYADA, she had been on the fast track to fame. That is, until she fell in love with a man she met on a trip to visit her parents in Ohio. It was a short lived romance, lasting only as long as the summer in which they met, but it left Elizabeth pregnant with a child she could not support.

A baby was not on her list of aspirations and goals, it was nothing more than a roadblock on the path to success. Elizabeth knew she had to do something about her "problem", and she had to do it fast. However, she could not find it within herself to have an abortion, she always had a foreboding feeling about it. Something always stopped her from making that appointment. In the end she decided to bide her time, to keep her pregnancy a secret from her family, her former lover, and most of all, her manager.

That was easier said than done, however. After all, it was rather hard for her to practice when she couldn't hold down her already small meals. If that wasn't suspicion enough, she was beginning to have trouble fitting into her costumes, most of which were tight little sequined numbers that left nothing to the imagination. It wasn't long until her manager found out about her little secret. There was no way he was going to support her decision, the media would paint a target on both of their backs. In the end, he gave her an ultimatum, either get rid of her unborn child, or say goodbye to her career.

Elizabeth knew that the decision was already made for her. There was no way she could give up her child, she would have to give up her dream instead. She quit her job at the theater, swapping out for a minimum wage position as a singer in a cafe. The pay barely paid her bills, and it left no surplus to prepare for the arrival of her child. Several months into her pregnancy, the stress of her job and her lost hopes caused her to become depressed. At first she could bear it, she could put on a fake smile to make it through the day, lying to herself that everything would be okay. Sometimes there were days when she didn't know why she even bothered, and she had to remind herself that she had another life depending on her, just to get the strength to try. She knew that if she focused on the positive, she could make it through.

She couldn't have been more wrong. Positivity didn't pay the medical bills that were slowly stacking up, and it didn't pay the rent that was two weeks past due. As her debt piled up, Elizabeth plunged more and more into depression. Not even the thought of her baby could motivate her any more. Several missed work shifts later, she was fired from her job at the cafe. At seven months pregnant and with no income, Elizabeth was becoming desperate. She thought about telling her parents of her situation, but she didn't want to be a disappointment to them. They had high hopes for their little girl, and an unplanned pregnancy was not one of them. She couldn't tell Burt, the father of the child, she had left him behind with the intention of never contacting him again. It was a bridge she burned when she left Ohio, something she never thought she would regret.

Elizabeth barely managed to pull herself together in time to save herself and her baby. She took her grandmother's old ring to the pawn shop and took out a loan in order to pay her rent. It bought her enough time to convince her manager at the cafe to give her another chance, to which he reluctantly agreed. In the following weeks, her life took a turn for the better. She was beginning to catch up on her bills, and more often than not, she woke up in the mornings feeling refreshed instead of exhausted.

However, it seemed that fate had other plans for her. She was weeks away from her due date, when she was hit by a drunk driver on her way home from her night shift at the cafe. She was rushed to the hospital in critical condition, with little hope for herself or her baby. As soon as she arrived, Elizabeth was taken into the OR, where she was going to undergo an emergency C-section. She was slipping in and out of consciousness, all she could understand were muffled voices, and a woman shouting. In her delusions, she didn't understand that it was her calling out, praying for the life of her child.

Elizabeth could barely understand what was happening, she could faintly see the surgeon lifting something into the air. It was still, and covered in blood, her blood. It took her a moment to realize that it was her baby, not moving, not breathing. She began to panic and hyperventilate. She prayed that he would be okay, but there was nothing they could do to save her baby, he was gone. She was beginning to slip back into unconsciousness because of her loss of blood, when she heard a deep voice calling her name. She looked to the side of the bed and saw a man, about middle aged, with dark eyes, giving off a dark aura. He looked down at her with his dark eyes, and for a moment, time stood still.

He told her that her boy was not gone, that he could bring him back. She would get to have her baby, and he would restore her to her former glory. For a price. The man told her that his name was Lucifer, and that all he wanted for payment was a pure, untainted soul. Elizabeth weighed her options quickly, after being reminded that the man didn't have all night. After a moments pause, she agreed. The man gave her a wicked smile, and told her that her baby would live. He said, when they cut the umbilical cord, the boy would be signing his name in blood, and his soul would be his for the taking.

When Elizabeth agreed to the man's terms, she thought that her soul was the one he wanted. She hadn't completely thought it through when the man said that he wanted a pure soul. Before she could protest, though, the man was gone and time began to flow once again. She was brought out of her thoughts by the sound of a baby crying, her baby. He was handed to her wrapped in a blue blanket, looking up at her with a mirror of her very own blue eyes. For a moment, she forgot the circumstances in which he was alive, and smiled down at him.

"Kurt."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N I'm evil. If you have any comments, reviews are always welcome.**

James Anderson stared down at his newborn son, noting the dark shade of his unruly locks, and his rather unusually shaped eyebrows. Neither were traits that the boy had inherited from him, all of his relatives had sandy blonde hair and perfectly arched eyebrows, a trait that came from his ancestors. No, the boy had black hair with a tight curl, something that he could not possibly have gotten from his mother, who had long flowing brown hair without a trace of curl. James looked down into the baby's deep hazel eyes with bemusement, thinking of how any other father would wonder about the boys paternity. But he was not any other father.

You see, James knew exactly why the boy had dark hair and hazel eyes. He knew exactly who the father of the child was, and it certainly was not him. As he looked down into the boy's eyes, Blaine- as his mother had named him-, he could only wonder how things had come to be the way they were.

James had made quite a few bad decisions in his life. Deciding not to attend the most prestigious schools as a child, despite his parent's insistence. Not following in his father's footsteps and becoming a lawyer, declaring that the real money was in politics. Getting a woman pregnant and letting her father force him into a marriage. The worst of all was letting greed go to his head to the point where he used the woman he had grown to love for power. Yes, even a corrupt man as himself had a limit, and he had let himself pass it.

About ten months ago, James was at the top of his game, he had won over a large city and was leading in the polls. He was on the path to power, and nothing short of a scandal could stop him. But, as the saying goes, Karma was a bitch. James was in the middle of celebrating his son Cooper's election as student body president when he received a phone call from his campaign manager, bearing some bad news. Apparently one of his contenders had been digging up dirt and had found a rather interesting gem, one that could ruin his credibility as a family man and wonderful father.

James was not a bad looking man by any means, and the way he held himself was a rather good indicator that he was well off. It was only natural that women would be attracted to a man such as himself. He had many one night stands on business trips out to the cities, making sure to be very careful and always use protection to ensure that nothing could be held against him. But it seemed that he wasn't careful enough.

Just six months ago he had been in New York City, at a conference, when he had met a gorgeous blonde twenty-something. She was a student maybe, perhaps an aspiring actress, he didn't care to remember. He was sure that he used protection, but the condom must have broken- that was the only explanation. Obviously, the girl had decided to keep the baby and was far along enough to show. It had been the perfect ploy for his rival to ruin his reputation. No voter would have believed him after such a scandal. James, however, had a plan.

James had acquired a very powerful ally many years ago, when he was in a bind. He had just discovered his girlfriend's pregnancy. Unsure what to do, he had hit up the local bar. That was when he met him. James was on his third glass of scotch and was starting to feel inebriated, when a slightly older gentleman, maybe thirty, had introduced himself as Lucas Samael. He offered good advice, urging James to do the right thing and marry his pregnant girlfriend, saying it would help further his career. The man said he could see James' potential, his future, and that he could guide him down the right path.

James didn't believe what he was hearing at first, who would? He blew off the mysterious man's words as nonsense, but the man just laughed. He heeded James to take his advice, regardless. He turned to leave, but not before shaking James' hand and telling him that he was the best ally a man could ever have, and the worst enemy anyone could ever make. He told James that if he ever needed help, to seek him out, and he would be there.

James had only called on Samael twice since he met him, and he preferred to have as little interaction with the man as possible; there was something about the man that scared James. When James found out about his bastard child, and the potential for scandal to ruin his career, he called on Samael again. Over the years, James had come to see him as what he really was, the devil. He knew that if there was anyone that could fix his problem, it was him.

When Samael came to him, it was late in the night, around dinner time. He heard the doorbell ring while his wife was setting the table, and left from the kitchen to answer. The man smiled at James as he opened the door and beckoned him in. He followed James into his den, where they could talk in private. Samael wasted no time in getting to the point. He stated that he had been lenient in asking for James to return his favors, and in order for James to receive his assistance that time, that he wanted something valuable in return. He stated that it was the most opportune moment, that it could not wait.

Samael told James that he would make his problem disappear, and that James would give him an equal payment, no negotiation. Samael was past agreements, it was the only opportunity he would give. All he needed to seal the deal was a handshake, that he very hesitantly received from an apprehensive James. He smiled his wicked smile, and handed something to James, not needing to say anything further. James looked down at the bottle in his hands and knew what he had to do. Samael stated that he would be back later, and reminded James that he would be severely punished should he try to back out.

Later that night, after his son had gone to bed, James and his wife settled down to enjoy a glass of wine together. Halfway through her drink, his wife told him that she had been keeping track of her ovulation, and that she very much wanted another child. She stated that then was the perfect night, that she had been planning to ask him. He smiled at her and nodded in agreement, kissing her before going into the kitchen to refill their glasses. While he was pouring the wine, he slipped one of the pills Samael had given him into her glass, feeling a pang of guilt as he did. He shook the feeling away, and went back to his beautiful wife.

A few sips into her drink, she began to swoon, and James knew he had only had a few moments to get her into their bedroom. He carefully guided her up the stairs and into their master bedroom, before settling her back on the bed and kissing her passionately. Just as she started to fall asleep, James felt a tap on his shoulder. He didn't need to look, he already knew who it was. He stepped away from the bed and went to leave the room. The last thing he saw through the sliver of the door was Samael undoing his expensive tie, before leaning down to kiss at his wife's neck.

It was arguably the worst thing James had ever agreed to, and nine months later he held the evidence of his treachery in his gentle embrace. He never thought that he would have been able to do such a heinous thing, but then again, what wouldn't he do for power?


	3. Chapter 3

"Marcel, please help me out! I know you're busy finding a gift for your boyfriend's birthday, but I really need someone to watch Kurt for a few hours." said a beautiful young woman as she hurried down the sidewalk, a small but handsome boy following close behind her. "Please, I'll pay you! Yes, I know you don't like to take money from me, but I really need you to help me out here."

Elizabeth was in a bind, she was having trouble finding someone to watch her 6 year old son while she went to her evening rehearsal. She was a rather successful Broadway performer, with quite a few reputable shows under her belt, and she was getting ready to add another one to her list. Elizabeth had struggled in the first year of her career, having to deal with an unwanted pregnancy, and debilitating depression. After the birth of her son, Kurt, she had finally begun to make an impression in the theater business. Now, she was living comfortably and reaping the benefits of her success. She had a nice apartment in a lovely part of the city, her son went to the best school available, and she had enough money left over after her expenses to enjoy the little things in life. However, what she didn't have at the moment was a babysitter, and she was just short of begging her best friend Marcel, who she met at a diner she used to work at years ago, to watch her son.

"Please, Marc, none of the girls will watch him. They say he creeps them out." How the hell a little boy could scare fully grown women was beyond her. She gently ushered her son, who had stopped suddenly, into the entryway of their apartment building. "Come, Kurt, we're almost there, then you can watch reruns of Project Runway." Kurt's head perked up and he smiled as he followed her to the elevator. She unlocked the door to her apartment, and her son ran past her to the living room to turn on the TV. Elizabeth laughed at her son's enthusiasm. "Typical Kurt, once you mention fashion he forgets his manners. No, he didn't even take off his shoes first, and you know how much he loves his shoes." She smiled as the man on the other end of the line laughed and made a comment about where he got it from.

"Yeah, I'll be over in a few Liz. I'll just have to take him shopping with me. The horror!" said Marcel as he left the department store to go back to his car. "Tell the little demon I'm on my way."

"Kurtie, guess who's on their way over." teased Elizabeth, to which she barely got a glance from her son. She sighed as she went into her well decorated room to get ready for her rehearsal. She had to admit that things had gotten better as Lucifer had promised. However, she still wondered if it was worth the cost. One would think that a child owned by the devil would be pure evil, but her son was just an ordinary six year old boy. Kurt was a sweet child to most, the only thing that seemed to phase him was other people's horrible senses of fashion. There had been a few quirks that she had noticed in Kurt over the years, but nothing to which she felt the need to worry.

Elizabeth had just finished changing into her stylish exercise clothes when she heard a knock on the door. She barely got into the living room when she heard Kurt throw the door open and launch himself into Marcel's arms. She smiled as she heard Marcel "oof" and tell Kurt that he missed his "little demon" as he liked to call him. If only he knew, thought Elizabeth as she walked into the room to greet Marcel. There, hugging Kurt, stood a lithe man with a light complexion and dark hair. He had soft but handsome features, and a killer sense of style that Kurt adored and of which Elizabeth could only be jealous.

"Elizabeth, you look wonderful. Those yoga pants are really flattering on you!" said Marcel, holding in a sarcastic laugh as he kissed her on the cheek. He turned and leaned down to whisper to Kurt. "Mommy needs to work on her clothing choices, don't you think?"

Kurt giggled, but shook his head. Nothing could be more beautiful to him than his mother. Marcel tutted and helped Kurt into his coat, waving goodbye to Elizabeth as they made their way out of the apartment. He was glad to help Elizabeth in any way that he possibly could, so he was more than happy to take Kurt along to the best clothing stores in town. If anything, it would be a great learning experience for Kurt, who loved seeing the clothing on display. He really enjoyed spending time with Kurt, it was like he had his own little imp to share his fashion wisdom with and mold into the best little fashionista possible. He looked forward to seeing Kurt as a well rounded, but stylish none the less, grown man.

Marcel's boyfriend Anthony was the type of man who had a decent sense of fashion, but couldn't accessorize to save his life. Therefore, it made sense for them to start in a store that specialized in accessories. The moment they entered the store, Kurt's eyes widened as if he was handed a platinum Visa card and told to go wild. He started to bounce and giggle from excitement, making Marcel's arm jiggle up and down from where they were holding hands. Marcel lead them over to a display of belts, looking over the selection for the perfect color to match Anthony's eyes. He let go of Kurt's hand to hold a belt out to test its length.

While Marcel was surveying the belt selection, Kurt busied himself by looking around at the other displays. He was staring at a garish handbag when he saw a man beckoning to him from the other side of the store. It was a handsome man, in his late thirties, holding something that caught and held Kurt's attention. Kurt looked up to see Marcel heavily engaged with the belts, not paying attention to him. Knowing that he wasn't going to be seen, Kurt slowly started walking over to where the dark haired man was standing by a scarf rack. As he got closer, he could clearly see the thing held in the man's hands. It was the most beautiful scarf Kurt had ever seen, it was a combination of blue, green, and gray. Kurt took the scarf the man held out to him, marveling in the silkiness of the fabric.

"Do you like it, Kurt?" asked the man, smiling softly as he looked down at the boy. Kurt had grown well since the last time Samael had seen him. He was a beautiful child, and he would grow up to be a handsome young man capable of making women and men both bend to his will. Samael planned on using that fact to his advantage. When he bargained for the boy's soul, he knew that the boy very useful. However, he could see now that Kurt had more potential than he had predicted. "It's very beautiful, just like you. It would suit you well."

The boy smiled at Samael, a stunning smile filled with all the joys of childhood. He had been very careful not to influence the boy until then. He didn't want the child's mother to become suspicious, that would only be detrimental to his plans. Then, however, was the perfect opportunity for him to evaluate his influence on the child. He knew he could make Kurt do anything he wanted, he had the power, but he wanted to test the child's will. Samael smiled down at the boy with his mischievous smile. He leaned down to the boy's eye level, and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Take it." he said in an encouraging voice. Kurt knew that something wasn't right about the man, but he couldn't tell what exactly. Kurt looked up at the man, then looked back down at the scarf. He really wanted the scarf, he knew enough about fashion to be able to tell that it was exquisite. He held up the tag, trying to figure out if two zero zero was a lot of money, but he wasn't far enough along in math to be able to tell the difference. Kurt looked back up at the man, who kept smiling at him. "Go on, no one is looking."

"But, it's bad to take things without permission." argued Kurt, still clutching the scarf protectively. He had heard enough from his mother to know that stealing was bad, and he would get in trouble if he was caught. The man laughed a small laugh, and held a finger to his lips in a shushing motion. He supposed that if nobody knew it was missing, then maybe it wasn't _technically_ stealing. Kurt squashed down the doubt bubbling in his stomach, and smiled at the man. He gently folded the scarf, and carefully tucked it into the inner pocket of his jacket. He had just barely finished when he heard Marcel's booming voice.

"Kurt! What are you doing?" demanded Marcel as he ran up to the boy. He had finally picked out the perfect belt and bracelet combo when he noticed that Kurt was nowhere to be seen. He had been worried sick until he saw the boy over by the scarf section. He felt terrible when Kurt jumped as if he had been electrocuted. Kurt's face had begun to contort with tears when Marcel pulled him into a hug. "I was so worried, honey. What if someone had taken you? Imagine how your mother would feel if you went missing."

Kurt was beyond scared, he was sure that Marcel had caught him. He looked up to see if the man was still watching him, but there was no trace of him. Kurt was pulled out of his trance as Marcel took his hand and led them to the checkout counter. After they left the store they checked out a few more, with Kurt pointing out clothes that he thought his mother would like, much to Marcel's amusement. They had dinner at a nice little restaurant, and finished with some organic frozen yogurt for desert.

Marcel had just tucked Kurt into bed when Elizabeth got home from her rehearsal. They chatted a while about all the drama she had to put up with. They talked about the stupid things her cast mates said, and how vain they were. Kurt began to drift off to sleep listening to his mother and Marcel talk about her day. The last thing he thought of before he fell asleep was the pretty scarf that he had stashed in the back of his closet, and of the warm and scary eyes of the mysterious man he had met that day.

**Thanks for reading. Reviews are love, and they inspire me to write more. Hint, hint.**


	4. Chapter 4

** A/N Thanks for reading! I was surprised by the amount of follows I got for this story, more than all my other stories combined. I appreciate your feedback, and remember, reviews are love.**

A beautiful young woman was talking to a sales clerk, holding onto the hand of an energetic young boy with curly brown hair. The woman was Elaine Anderson and she was running a few Christmas errands in town, her 5 year old son, Blaine, tagging along behind her. Elaine had gone to pick up her son from school, something she usually sent his nanny to do, but she wanted to spend some time with him. A rare occurrence. Elaine was not a bad parent by far, she was a rather good mother in her acquaintances' eyes, a model parent. However, her husband's busy schedule left her bustling about on most days, leaving her with very little time to spend with her younger son. She was negotiating the price of something with the sales woman, when Blaine tugged on her arm impatiently, as he had been waiting for something to eat for over an hour.

"Mommy, I'm hungry." said the small boy, his triangular eyebrows scrunched together in annoyance. "You promised we'd get hot chocolate an hour ago!"

"Blaine, be patient. We will get some hot chocolate after I finish talking to this lady." chastised his mother, not impressed with her son's attitude. Blaine pouted, but said nothing further on the matter.

His mother went back to her negotiations, leaving Blaine to occupy himself with looking around the shop. He let go of his mother's hand and wandered over to a knick knack display. He picked up a snow globe with a Christmas tree with little lights on it, turning it up side down so he could see it snow. It was almost Christmas time and Blaine was excited. Christmas for Blaine meant hot chocolate, seeing his family, and plenty of expensive presents. Not that the price mattered to Blaine, he just loved to receive gifts. Blaine's stomach grumbled at the thought of hot chocolate, and he looked over to where his mother was still talking to the sales woman.

Blaine moved on to a shelf full of crosses, some made with beautiful silver, wood, and glass. He had never seen a cross up close, his parents didn't go to church, but his nanny did. She would talk to Blaine about God, and Jesus, but Blaine would never pay much attention. His mind was always elsewhere. Blaine delicately picked one up to take a closer look. It had lovely carvings on it, and it was smooth in his hand. Something, however, didn't seem right about it. It felt weird in his hand, almost as if it didn't want him to touch it, a strange feeling to come off of something so beautiful. The feeling kept growing until Blaine couldn't stand to hold it anymore, and he dropped it back on the shelf with a clatter.

Hearing the clatter, Elaine called her son over, telling him not to touch things. When she had finished with the sale, they left the shop to check out the hot beverage vendor that had been next to a quaint bakery. Elaine ordered a hot apple cider for herself, and a hot chocolate with extra marshmallows for Blaine, who thanked her delightedly. Blaine sat on the bench with his mother, happily sipping his drink. He watched the townspeople go about their business, in that moment, he was content. Just as he was about to doze off, Blaine noticed something, or someone, staring at him from across the street.

It was a man, a homeless man, with raggedy clothes, and missing teeth. The man leered at him with an unusual glint in his eyes, as if he saw something disgusting on the bottom of his shoe. Blaine couldn't tear his eyes away from the man, who licked his rotting gums and made a lewd gesture at him. Blaine was about to turn to his mother and tell her about the man, when something about the man caught his attention. The man's eyes began to roll back into their sockets, and the man's skin began to melt, bubbling and oozing. Blaine barely held in a scream as the man began to disintegrate right before his eyes, leaving a grotesque creature where the man once sat. Blaine was terrified to the core, he had never seen something so monstrous before. What confused him was the fact that no one else seemed to see it.

"Blaine, honey, what are you staring at?" asked Elaine, making her son jump in his seat and start crying, clutching her arm tightly. Blaine was pointing across the street, babbling about a monster, or a man, she couldn't tell. She looked over to where he was pointing, but didn't see any man. He was clearly upset by the matter, and it made her worry. Therefore, she figured it was time for them to head home. It was getting late, and Blaine wasn't pleasant when he was tired.

Elaine had put her son into bed, taking twice as long because Blaine refused to sleep without the light on. He kept arguing about the monster he had seen earlier, and whining when she refused to lay down with him. By the time Elaine left his room, she was at her wit's end. She had never seen Blaine refuse one of her orders so blatantly before. After a while, she made sure that he was asleep, and poured herself a glass of wine. She didn't usually drink, but she felt as though she would go insane if she didn't at least have a drink. She had just gotten settled in her favorite chaise lounge, when her husband came home from his office. He kissed her on the cheek and poured himself a glass of brandy. He sat down in the chair across from his wife, sipping his brandy with a look of contentment on his face.

"James, I need to talk to you." Elaine's voice cut through the amicable silence. James glanced up at his wife with an inquisitive look. He nodded his head to her to let her know he was listening. "It's about Blaine. He's been acting rather odd lately."

"He's a child Elaine, you know how boys are. Remember how Cooper was at his age?" countered James, the last thing he wanted to hear about was how unusual Blaine was. It was hard enough to ignore the feeling in his gut whenever the boy was near.

"It's not the same," Elaine argued to her barely listening husband. She hated how he would tune her out unless he thought she was talking about something important. "He's not like the other boys his age. He has no friends, no one will talk to him. His teachers told me that none of the other kids want to be around him. They're afraid of him! A five year old boy!"

"That's ridiculous, Elaine, he's just shy. It's a phase, I'm positive that he will grow out of it. Please stop over reacting." James all but yelled at his wife, he didn't want to listen to her rant. He had heard enough, he knew that what she was talking about was probably true. That was what Blaine was after all, unusual and strange. It was in his blood to be a loner, to invoke fear in the hearts of his peers. However, James hadn't expected to see that side of Blaine for years to come. To think that Blaine was showing his true nature at such a young age was frightening to James.

"God dammit, James! Would you listen to me for once?" Elaine yelled at her husband, who gave her one of his unimpressed looks. She was determined to make him listen, this was serious. "He's never been sick, even when all the kids in his class got the chicken pox, not a mark on his body, James. That's not normal!"

James didn't want to hear anymore of her ridiculous ideas, he started arguing with her about what she should be worrying about. Not soon after, they were yelling at each other, a common occurrence in their house. James' work had been stressful lately, making him grumpy once he got home, add Elaine's worrisome personality and you had a recipe for disaster. They were arguing so loudly, that their voices carried all the way up the stairs of their stately home.

Blaine sat at the top of the stairs, having been woken up by the monster in his closet. When he heard his parents' raised voices, he wandered down the hall to sit and listen. They were arguing about him, how he had no friends, how no one wanted to talk to him. His father disagreed with his mother, he said there was nothing wrong with him, that he was just a normal boy. Blaine wished he was right. He himself didn't even believe it. It wasn't his fault that no one would talk to him, it was something about him that made them wary. There was only one person in his class who would talk to him, but everyone called her stupid all the time because she didn't know how to spell her own name. Blaine, however didn't care, a friend was a friend, even if you were a freak in everyone else's eyes. Blaine grew weary of listening to his parents yell at each other, and slowly walked back to his room. He wondered if he could convince the monster in his closet to go away long enough to let him sleep, but he doubted it.

He made his way back into his bedroom, stepping cautiously, trying not to be too loud. Very quietly, he made his way ever to his closet, pulling the door open just a crack. He was greeted by a pair of ruby red eyes, eyes that had haunted his nightmares. Blaine gulped, trying to find the courage to speak to the nearly invisible creature. It blinked at him menacingly, and raised a clawed finger to beckon him closer. Blaine nodded his head in affirmation, and took a tentative step closer to the creature. It didn't appear to have a distinct shape, only a red set of eyes, and the clawed hands that had beckoned him. Blaine cleared his throat, surprised that the creature hadn't tried to eat him yet.

"Wh-what are you?" he asked the creature, who just blinked at him. He could hear the thing breathing, a raspy sound emanating from what he assumed was its mouth.

"I'm a demon, little boy, what else would I be?" asked the creature in an inquisitive voice. Blaine gave the creature a thoughtful look, trying to figure out if it was a trick question.

"You're not a monster? It thought you wanted to eat me, or steal my soul. Something like that." he asked the creature, who just gave a raspy laugh in response. Blaine shuddered at the sound, he was still terrified that the demon was going to hurt him.

"Be calm, child." said the demon, who laid a clawed hand on Blaine's shoulder. Blaine tried not to flinch, but he couldn't help himself. The demon notices, and removed his hand from the boy's shoulder. "I'm not going to hurt you, I'm here to protect you. I'm your friend."

"If you're supposed to be my friend, then will you leave me alone so I can sleep?" asked Blaine curiously, looking up into the creature's red eyes. The creature nodded slowly at him, which made the creature's eyes flicker in the darkness. "Say, what's your name, Mr. Demon?"

"You can call me Sammy, Blaine. Don't worry though, child, the next time you see me, I will be in a less frightening form." Sammy reassured Blaine, patting him on the back and guiding him out of the closet. Blaine made his way back up to his bed and settled himself under the covers. He started to doze off, watching the red eyes peering at him from the crack in his closet door. Just as he fell asleep, he felt a hand rustling his hair. He looked up to see a man with eyes like his own, looking down at him with a smile on his face.


	5. Chapter 5

** A/N There are quite a few warnings for this chapter. Let's see: Violence, swearing, homophobia, kids being cruel, BAMF young Kurt. Did I cover everything? I hope. Thanks for your follows, and I appreciate your feedback.**

Kurt never tired of spending time with Rachel. They spent many days on the school playground talking about fashion, musicals, and which boys were cute. As terrible as she was to listen to, she was the only friend he had managed to make in the past three years of school. At eight years old, the two of them were the outcasts of the school, something hard to believe was possible at such a young age. Rachel was picked on because she was obnoxious and all the other kids called her ugly because of her big nose. They picked on Kurt because he was what they called a "faggot", not that he really understood what that meant, he just assumed it was bad. All of the other children usually ignored them, calling them names under their breath if anything at all. The teachers didn't pay much attention to them, except to chastise them when the talked back to their tormentors. Then, there were the bullies, the people who actively targeted them just to make them miserable.

Their bullies sought them out on most days, coming over to where they were peacefully chatting, and making snide comments, sometimes worse. It was a common occurrence, something that the two of them had come to expect. As usual, Rachel and Kurt were seated on the bench next to the old swing set, chatting about the possibilities of a multicolored trench coat, to which Kurt was adamant, when the group of boys came over.

Their leader, a burly boy named Joshua, who was a couple years older than them, came right up to where Rachel was seated, and sneered down at her.

"Who the heck dresses you? Your mother?" teased the boy, as he smirked down at the garish colors of Rachel's sweater and skirt combination. The bully laughed when Rachel blushed, his disgusting breath right in her face. "Oh, that's right! You don't have a mother, you have two faggot fathers!"

The other boys broke out in laughter, obviously enjoying the pained look on Rachel's face. Joshua, however, wouldn't be satisfied until he go to see her cry. In his eyes, two men being together was wrong and disgusting. He was taught from a young age that anything other than a man and a woman was unnatural, just like that Rachel girl, and the gay boy, Kurt. He felt he needed to teach them a lesson, so he made sure that they knew where they belonged, in the dirt. As if to prove his point, he roughly grabbed a lock or Rachel's hair, and viciously tugged until she stumbled into the mud next to the bench. The other boys snickered loudly behind Joshua, smiling at each other when he threw something back at them. It was that same lock of Rachel's hair.

Kurt, who had been too afraid to do anything up to that point, jumped out of his seat and sank down to where Rachel was clutching her head. He tried to make sure she was okay, but she wouldn't let him see her face. He pried her hands away and shushed her when he saw her face streaming with tears, half covered in mud. The pitiful look of Rachel's face caused Kurt to become enraged at the boys, he hopped up to look them square in the eyes. Kurt was about to tell them off, when Joshua pushed him backwards into the bench, knocking the air out of his lungs.

"What are you gonna do, homo? Hit me? I dare you, you little fag." teased Joshua as he vengefully watched Kurt gasp for breath. Kurt glared defiantly back at them, still reeling from the shove. A little voice in his head was urging him to lash out at the boys, to make them feel the pain that he was subjected to. Kurt, however, knew better than to give into his instincts, as they usually got him into trouble. Joshua, taking his silence as defeat, leered down at him and smiled maliciously.

"I thought so. You couldn't if you tried." sneered the boy, before he roughly pulled Kurt off the bench and shoved him into the mud next to Rachel. He gave Kurt a farewell kick to he side before we called his buddies to go torment some other child.

Kurt gasped from the pain blossoming in his side, and tried not to cry at the mud currently staining his expensive clothes. He knew that he should stand up to them but they out numbered him, and they were much bigger. Still, he couldn't help but feel resentful and vindictive towards the group. It was enough to make him want to shut them up for good. He pondered on the consequences, as he pulled Rachel up from where she was still sobbing in the mud. A strong voice in his head reassured him he could get away with getting rid of them, or at least that jerk, Joshua. After much consideration on Kurt's part, it seemed like a legitimate idea. If he took away the ring leader, then his buddies would leave them alone. Kurt hatched a devious plan as he half-hauled Rachel to the girls' bathroom.

It was late at night, after Kurt's mother had gone to bed, and Kurt was laying restlessly in his bed. No matter how much he thought about it, and how much the voice in his head argued otherwise, he couldn't justify harming another person. No matter how much he despised them. By the time he had fallen asleep, Kurt had decided to resolve the matter in a peaceful, non-violent way. If it was even possible. He fell into a sleep riddled with nightmares of the taunting boy's face, and the harsh words he spoke.

Samael stood by Kurt's bed, watching the boy in his fitful sleep full of nightmares. He was not pleased when the boy decided not to heed his advice at take his revenge upon his tormentors. Despite how much Samael had tried to convince the boy that it was justified, Kurt would turn his cheek. It was not a pleasant development by far, Samael was tempted to force the boy into harming the bullies. However, he couldn't ignore Kurt's strong willed opposition, it was a good trait for him to possess in the future. Even though Kurt showed signs of moral strength when in danger, Samael did not approve of the boy letting himself be taken advantage of. If Kurt refused to take matters into his own hands, Samael would.

The next day, Kurt tried remarkably hard to ignore Joshua, which was easier said than done. The bully seemed to be everywhere that Kurt went, as if he was following him. It was as if the incident that had happened the day before spurred the boy on, making him more malicious than usual. By the third time Joshua had made fun of him that day, Kurt had had enough. He was just about ready to take back his own advice, and show the boy a taste of his own bitter medicine. However, no matter how mean Joshua got, Kurt reminded himself that he was above hurting others, that it wasn't worth it.

Kurt just barely made it through the day without getting injured, something for which he was rather grateful. He was walking down the hallway, pondering on what his mother was going to make for dinner, when he was roughly grabbed and dragged into the stairwell. There, standing in with Kurt's arm clutched tightly in his grasp, was Joshua. He wasn't with his usual friends, he had decided to have a moment alone with the "fairy" so he could teach him a lesson. Before Kurt got the chance to struggle, or yell for help, Joshua landed a hard punch to Kurt's left cheek. The weight of the blow caused Kurt to topple from his captor's grasp, and teeter towards the wall.

Joshua was just about to land another punch, this time to his stomach, when Kurt looked up at the boy from where he was leaning on the wall. The sight the boy saw all but scared the piss out of him. It was as if Kurt's eyes had changed to a crimson red, and his usual docile face had been taken over by a twisted and cruel smile. Kurt stalked towards the boy menacingly, making the boy backtrack, towards the stairs. Each step that Joshua took closer to the stairs made Kurt's face morph wickedly. The bully was on the edge of the top stair, clutching the railing like a lifeline.

"What are you?!" screamed the boy in despair, to which Kurt only laughed an eery laugh. Kurt came as close as he could to the boy, and gently placed his hands on the boy's chest.

Even though Kurt was attracted to boys, he could feel a muted sense of disgust at the thought of touching his tormentor. Kurt felt as though he was numb, barely able to control his actions, if at all. He felt as though he was merely a spectator in one of his most terrifying fantasies, one in which he was able to carry out his most wicked desires without the thought of consequence. He boy sneered down at Kurt's touch, a terrified look of disgust on his face. Kurt, however, just smiled at the boy, laughing softly. He mustered a superhuman amount of strength, and pushed the boy as hard as he could down the flight of stairs, an inhuman sound of delight leaving his lips.

There were a serious of muffled thumps, and a few cracking sounds as Joshua toppled down the secluded stairs. Each cracking sound was accompanied by a shriek of pain as the boy collided with the cold cement stairs. As Joshua tumbled down, Kurt calmly and serenely descended the stairs after him, an amused smile of satisfaction on his face. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, Kurt was met by his slightly mangled and bloodied tormentor. It looked as though the boy had broken at least two limbs, and was slowly bleeding from the back of his head. Blood was flowing from Joshua's apparently broken nose, when Kurt leaned down next to him, careful not to get blood on his expensive outfit. Kurt's eyes glowed deviously at the barely conscious boy.

"Listen to me, you little piss ant," spoke Kurt in a deep and demonic voice, as he moved a lock of hair off of his bloody head in mock sweetness. "You're a little fucking bastard, and you deserve to be in pain for all the shit you put me through. If you think you're in a world of pain right now, just ponder on the thought that I could have killed you if I wanted to. I would have made it look like a bloody accident, just like this." He gestured to the position in which Joshua laid, barely able to move and at Kurt's mercy.

" So here's the deal. You, and your brain dead little followers, are going to leave me and my friend alone." said Kurt seriously, still holding onto the boy's lock of hair. Joshua could only stare up at him incredulously. "If not, I will fucking find you, and make you wish you had died today on these stairs. You may not believe me, but just imagine the next time you need to borrow a pencil, or use a pair of shears. Think of how easy it would be to slip-" Kurt yanked the lock of the boy's hair roughly, leaving quite a few hairs in his grasp. "-and never see the light of day again. I'll be seeing you, Joshua."

With that, Kurt walked away from the battered boy, barely conscious of each step that he took. He was halfway home when he started to become aware of his surroundings. The memory of what he had just done made him sick to his stomach, causing him to vomit all over the nearest hydrangea bush. Not sure what to do anymore, Kurt ran the rest of the way home, throwing himself down on his silk duvet and crying despairingly. He couldn't understand what had made him do such a despicable thing, even after he had decided not to resort to violence. He couldn't figure out why, but it was as though someone else had made his decisions for him, and they had chosen to be evil. Feeling as though he couldn't control his emotions anymore, Kurt cuddled up with his favorite scarf and waited for his mother to come home.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N Hey! Don't hate me for this chapter. Everything happens for a reason, I promise! Reviews are love!**

The last year had been good to Blaine Anderson, a bright and handsome eight year old boy. He had plenty of friends, he got good grades, and he had a wonderful home life. He had finally come out of his shy shell, and started to make an impression on his elders, and his peers. Most of the children in his class idolized him, and his teachers adored him, he was very much a teacher's pet. At lunch, all the kids wanted to sit with him, and wanted to play with him at recess. It was a nice change from the previous year, when not one of his classmates even wanted to speak to him.

He was still very much friends with the girl he had met in kindergarten, Brittany, who still couldn't spell her full name properly. However, being avid friends with Blaine had made her become more popular with the students. They no longer picked on her, calling her names right to her face as if she didn't understand they were making fun of her. Now, they no longer considered her a freak because of some of the more unusual things she said, instead choosing to focus on her good looks. Still, as many new friends as they had, they preferred each other's solitary company. Especially on the days when they wanted to do nothing more than watch Disney movies on repeat, a giant bowl of popcorn nestled between the two.

Which is exactly what they had chosen to do on an ordinary Wednesday afternoon in the early fall. They had just gotten back from school, taking the time to strip off their suffocating outer layers, in preference of a more comfortable ensemble. It had been picture day at school and Blaine's mother had dressed him up in a sweater vest and bow tie, much to his dismay. As soon as he had gotten home, his bow tie and sweater had been carelessly thrown to the corner of the room, along with Brittany's cramped dress shoes and tights. Any one looking upon the scene would probably be flabbergasted, seeing a young girl and boy take off and toss about their clothes as if it was nothing. However, it was normal between the two of them to be completely comfortable around each other.

There was a silent and unconscious understanding between Blaine and Brittany, something that they had discovered long ago. They had figured out from a young age that they would never be like the other children their age. Even though they were young, they could already tell that they were different from their peers. Blaine had come to understand the fact that he could see and interact with what he called "demons", a characteristic that he had retained from a young age. It had taken Blaine a few years to get used to the involuntary skill, but he had managed. It was hard for him at first, being afraid of the monsters that only he could see. Once he had gotten past the dark implications of such a gift, it wasn't so bad in his eyes. It had definitely proven useful at times. Still, it was a secret that he had never shared with anyone before Brittany, in fear of being outcast and seen as a dangerous freak.

Brittany never judged him, seeing only the good in Blaine's unusual abilities, and accepting him for who he was. As dark as Blaine felt at times, Brittany was just the contrary. She was sweet, happy, and bright in her own unusual sort of way. She was everything Blaine had ever wanted in a friend, and, with Brittany, he was happier than he had ever been. He would be happy forever just to cuddle next to her without a care in the world. If only it were that simple.

Blaine had been having trouble controlling his impulses and emotions over the last year. It was getting harder for him to resist the urge to simply do as he pleased, regardless of consequence. No matter if it was to ignore his mother's or father's commands, or to raise his hands to those who angered him, it still worried Blaine. Regardless of the intensity of the desire, it was getting harder and harder for him to resist. He didn't know if it was and outside influence that was affecting his actions, such as his imaginary friend, or something darker. He couldn't help but feel as though it was his own inclination, a darker side of his personality that was just starting to show. Blaine wasn't pleased with the situation, and how his behavior seemed to be getting progressively more remorseless by the day. The more dominant part of his disposition, the kinder side, was hell bent on making sure that he never strayed too far.

A few hours after Brittany had left, Blaine sat on his bed, and thought hard about the effects his actions were having on his life. After a good amount of debating, Blaine decided that it was time for him to take responsibility for his own actions, and to make sure that he kept himself in check. He was not going to let himself become one of the monsters that he had the misfortune of meeting all too often. He knew it would be a difficult task, but it was something that he had to do, for himself, and the people he loved. He was just about ready to get up and apologize to his parents for his horrid behavior the past few days when he felt a presence settling next to him on his bed.

He looked over, already knowing who it was, and smiled over at his imaginary friend. It was a boy who seemed to be Blaine's age, with hair as dark as midnight, and eyes that shined the color of jealousy. He smiled his crooked smile at Blaine, and laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Even though Blaine knew Sammy was a bad influence, he still felt comforted by his presence. He knew he should distance himself from the boy, but he couldn't find it within himself to ask him to leave. In the back of his mind, he could tell that Sammy wouldn't leave him alone if he did. He got the feeling that Sammy was more than just an imaginary friend, and that he was more attached to Blaine than he had previously thought. Sensing Blaine's dismay, Sammy tilted his head in question, and pulled him into a hug.

"What's the matter, Blainey? Did somebody make you mad?" he asked in a worried voice, a sickly sweet undertone dripping through his subtle sincerity. Sammy could tell that he was displeased with his illusive manipulation, even if Blaine hadn't quite figured out that it was the cause of his misbehavior.

He could tell from a quick look into Blaine's mind that the child was trying to stay his influence, and disarm his control over the boy's actions. He was very annoyed with the boy's sudden determination to challenge the control that he didn't even know Sammy had over him. It was a small roadblock in his plans for the boy, nothing he couldn't handle with a little persuasion. Sammy still had plenty of work to do before he had Blaine molded into the perfect little antichrist, ready to lead the world into its ruin. Blaine had no idea of the impact that he could have on society, the power he could have over millions of naive people everywhere. That would only be the beginning. At that moment, however, Sammy had to deal with the current problem.

"Blainey, would you like to play a game with me?" Sammy whispered quietly into Blaine's ear, still leaning his head on the boy's shoulder. He felt the child nod in response, so far all of Sammy's games had been fun and harmless. Sammy smiled into Blaine's shoulder, knowing his plan would work. He sat up to look Blaine in the eyes and smiled his falsely innocent smile. "Close your eyes."

Blaine closed his eyes, willing himself to ignore the foreboding feeling in the back of his mind. He didn't want Sammy to know he didn't want to be friends anymore, he got the feeling it would end badly. Therefore, he decided he would play along, for the sake of appearances. He listened as Sammy told him to imagine a street dimly lit by the moon and slick with rain. A back road, often traveled, without streetlamps or rails. He then told him to picture a car, silver, with a young woman, trying to get home to her son, whom she loved very much. Blaine nodded as he imagined what Sammy was describing, wondering what the point of the game was.

"Now, Blaine," Sammy whispered in his ear smirking maliciously, knowing Blaine couldn't see. He could follow through with his plan on his own, but he wanted to test out Blaine's powers, and his resistance. "imagine another car, with a man."

He watched as Blaine's face scrunched adorably in concentration. A trait he must have inherited from his mother, seeing as nothing about Samael could be considered cute. He then told the child that the man had done a terrible thing to the woman, many years ago, and that he deserved to be punished. Blaine's eyes flew open, and he stared at Sammy with bewilderment. Sammy could tell that Blaine was not amused, but he urged the boy to close his eyes once more. He smiled when the child reluctantly closed his eyes once more.

"You don't agree? You won't punish him?" Sammy's eyes lit up with malice when Blaine nodded in affirmation. It seemed as though his plan wouldn't pan out exactly as he thought. It didn't matter if Blaine couldn't be convinced to make the the man suffer, there was something else that he needed done. It was a good opportunity that would save him a little time, another chance to test Blaine's abilities. "Fine, but let me tell you about how the man has once again made a bad decision. You see, he has a nasty little habit of drinking too much. You remember what drunk is Blaine, I told you a while ago when your daddy had too much scotch and yelled at your mommy. Well, this man likes to get drunk, and he tries to drive home, knowing very well about the bad things that can happen."

"I don't like this anymore, Sammy." Blaine protested eying Sammy warily. He had stopped wanting to listen to Sammy when he mentioned the time Blaine saw his father in a drunken rage. It was a bad memory for Blaine, and it only heightened his apprehension. Sammy, however, was not amused. He gave Blaine another one of his stern looks, putting his hands on Blaine's shoulders and squeezing a little too hard.

"Close your eyes and hear me out, Blaine." Sammy impatiently waited for Blaine to listen, his grip on the boy's shoulders tightening when he didn't. "Do it, Blaine. Remember the last time you didn't do what I said?" Blaine nodded his head weakly and did as he was told. Sammy wasn't playing Blaine's stupid little game any more, he would be damned if he lost his influence over Blaine so soon. "That man, the one you didn't want to punish, is driving too fast. At the rate he's going, he's not going to make it around the corner that's coming up, right about where the woman is driving her car. Are you imagining it, Blainey?"

Blaine nodded once more, the feeling of Sammy's hands on his shoulders becoming extremely uncomfortable. He reluctantly imagined what Sammy was describing, a screeching car, the flash of lights, and a very loud crash. Red, everywhere, and the thudding of a barely beating heart. Sammy told him to picture that same man, staring down at a ditch, where the woman's car was overturned. He told him to imagine how man wasn't really seeing what was in front of him, like many years ago when he had done another terrible thing. How the man turned around and got back in his car not sparing a glance at where the woman lay in her car dying. The last thing he told Blaine, was to imagine a very strong tugging feeling, like something was gently being pulled from his very core, and a vast darkness, like nothing he had ever seen.

Blaine let out a choked sob, he felt as though he had just done something horrible. He felt as though it wasn't just a little game of imagination, it felt very real. It felt very terrifying for Blaine, and he wasn't sure what to do. Trying his best not to break down in front of Sammy, who was smiling down at him. Sammy gave him one last hug, feigning reassurance, before he left Blaine to his own devices, feeling as though he had accomplished something very important. Perhaps his little game had been more beneficial than he had planned.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N This chapter practically wrote itself. Next chapter is Kurt, breaking the pattern. Reviews are love!**

It was a particularly rainy night when Marcel and Kurt were cuddled up on the suede couch in Elizabeth's apartment. They were on their fifth episode of Say Yes to the Dress, Marcel's favorite, when he declared that it was time for Kurt to go to bed. Kurt stared up at him with his patented puppy dog eyes, but Marcel just smirked and shook his head. As cute as Kurt's pout was, he wasn't staying up any longer. Marcel would never hear the end of it if Kurt was grumpy in the morning, and annoyed a most likely tired Elizabeth. That was probably the worst the boy could do however, having been brought up so well by his mother.

Kurt Hummel was a well behaved child, he did as his mother told, and never disrespected his elders. At a well rounded nine years old, he was the epitome of a young gentleman, something for which his mother was very proud. Even though Elizabeth hadn't had much time to spend with her son over the years, she had always made sure that the time she could spare was well spent. She was a wonderful mother to Kurt, who had blossomed under her encouraging guidance. He was never afraid to be himself, something for which he extremely grateful. He had heard enough stories about Marcel's youth to be able to tell that he could have it much harder than he currently did.

Kurt already knew that he was nothing like the boys his age, but he didn't mind. He would much rather spend time investigating his own interests than to try to be someone he wasn't. It wasn't difficult for him either, having a wonderful role model, his mother's old friend, Marcel. He loved to spend time with Marcel, talking about the latest fashions in Vogue magazine, or who deserved to go home in the last episode of Project Runway. It was plain to see that Kurt idolized Marcel, anyone could tell. He couldn't be blamed, either, Marcel was the closest thing to a father figure Kurt had ever had. Lovely as Elizabeth was, her family and work kept her too busy for any chance at a love life.

Marcel often watched Kurt while Elizabeth was away, working hard on her hectic career. She could be gone for days, often weeks at a time, sometimes even calling home late to say she had to stay another day. Even though it upset Kurt at times, he was comforted by the fact that Marcel would always make him feel loved. Marcel knew that if anything ever happened to Elizabeth, there would be no question of him taking Kurt. He and Anthony would be more than happy to raise Kurt as their own, it would be a joy to the newly wedded couple.

"Please, Marcel." Kurt pleaded in a sing song voice. He didn't want to go to sleep until his mother got home, she had been gone for 6 days. She was due back home hours ago, but it didn't worry Kurt as she ran a little late some days. He tried another puppy face, but Marcel only rolled his eyes, obviously having gotten tired of his game. "Mom's not home yet, and I really wanted her to tuck me in."

"What, you don't like me tucking you in anymore?" asked Marcel in feigned offense, throwing his hands up in the air. He loved to pester Kurt just as much as Kurt loved to mess with him. He immediately felt guilty when he saw genuine tears start to swell up in the corner of the boy's eyes. He could tell it was one of _those_ nights, where Kurt longed for his mother to the point of sorrow. One of the nights where he would cry himself to sleep when he thought that Marcel couldn't hear. Marcel leaned over and pulled Kurt into his embrace, smoothing his hair over in a way that only he could get away with. "Shh, honey, it's okay. Don't cry, she'll be back soon. Look, would you like to lay here with me until you fall asleep?" Kurt nodded in response, sniffling and wiping the tears from his eyes.

Marcel pulled them both back to lean against the couch, pulling the throw blanket they had made together over the both of them. He set the TV to play the next episode of their show, and waited for Kurt's sniffling to stop. By the time Kurt's breathing had evened out, and he had fallen into a slumber, it was nearly midnight. Marcel couldn't help but worry for Elizabeth, she never took so long to get back home, even on her latest nights. He leaned carefully over to the night stand, trying not to jostle Kurt in the process, and grabbed his phone. He tried Elizabeth's cell, but got no answer. After a few more tries, he considered a call to the police, trying to decide if it was truly urgent. He gently laid Kurt down on the sofa, and made his way into the kitchen, flicking on the light and dialing the police.

He was in the process of describing Elizabeth's appearance when he heard a knock on the door. He excused himself, and hung up the phone, a feeling of unease building in his stomach the closer he got to the door. He opened the door to see a man in police uniform, with a grave look on his face. He asked for a Mr. Wright, the name Marcel had taken when he and Anthony had gotten married. When he nodded, the officer stated that he had gotten his name from Elizabeth Bennet's cell phone. Apparently, it was the only number listed as 'family'. The man stated that it was urgent, and asked if he could have a few moments to talk. Marcel took in his appearance as he moved aside to let the man into the apartment. He was a young man, probably new to his post, given the tedious task of being the bearer of bad news. He gave Marcel a quick look of condolence before he suggested that Marcel take a seat.

Marcel sat in shock for a few moments after the officer had given a report of Elizabeth's death. It appeared as though she had been traveling on a back road when she swerved to avoid another vehicle, it was assumed, crashing into a nearby ditch. The coroner had declared that her death was almost instantaneous, stating that she hadn't suffered. By then, Marcel was in tears, and he was trying in vain to hold back sobs. He felt a shaking hand on his shoulder, indicating that Kurt had woken up and heard the last part of the briefing. Marcel closed his arms around Kurt when he climbed into his lap, and let the wracking sobs overtake him.

When they had both calmed down enough to listen, the officer told Marcel that Kurt would most likely be taken into foster care for the time being, until a suitable arrangement could be decided. Marcel insisted that he could take Kurt for a while, but the officer only shook his head, stating that he wasn't a proper relative. It took all of Marcel's self restraint not to blow up at the man, thinking it would only make the situation more difficult than it already was.

"Is there another viable option? He doesn't have any _technical_ family members?" Marcel asked Officer Klein, as he the man had introduced himself earlier. There was no way that Kurt was alone in the world, Marcel was sure he had to have at least one other family member. "I mean, he has to at least have an aunt, or uncle. Hell, a second cousin would be better than foster care."

"Well, I see your concern, Mr. Wright. It's easy to see you care for the child." stated Klein, his expression softening a bit. He knew all too well that not every child put into foster care was well taken care of, he had seen enough case files about neglected, and often abused children. "There is one option, but it has yet to be investigated. I will have to get back to you about it as soon as I can. However, as of this moment, Kurt is now a ward of the state. I apologize Mr. Wright, but by law, I have to take him to a children's home until everything has been decided. I have a social worker waiting downstairs."

Marcel sat stunned, he had assumed that Elizabeth would have had a plan for Kurt in case anything had happened to her. Then again, there was no way to tell that she would have met an untimely death. Sighing in frustration at the hopelessness of the situation, Marcel sat a despondent Kurt back down on the chair. He moved almost on autopilot as he packed a bag for Kurt, making sure his teddy bear and favorite scarf were included. When he got back, the officer had just finished giving Kurt a little talk about where he was going. Marcel barely had time to give Kurt a hasty goodbye before the officer was ushering him out the door, where the social worker was waiting with a kind smile.

That was the last Marcel saw of Kurt for the next few weeks, much to his dismay. Officer Klein kept him updated on Kurt's status, telling him that things were moving along well, while stating that his hands were practically tied in the matter. Determined, Marcel made a few phone calls, many of which involved an old friend who happened to be a very prominent state attorney. He tried his best to pull his weight around, anything to keep Kurt close to home, but it appeared as though nothing would budge. By the time Elizabeth's funeral came around, he was beyond infuriated with his own inadequacy.

When Marcel arrived, he was glad to see the funeral home almost bursting with Elizabeth's most cherished friends and coworkers. Out of the corner of his eye, Marcel could see a very uncomfortable Kurt surrounded by and slightly older couple Marcel did not recognize. He assumed that they must be some sort of relative of Kurt's, family that she never mentioned. Seeing that Kurt was not going to be free any time soon, Marcel took the opportunity to take in his surroundings. Elizabeth's funeral arrangement, Marcel determined, was very beautiful, everything about it represented who she was in life. The parlor was delicately decorated in Casa lilies, unorthodox, yet fitting.

He languidly made his way up to her gorgeous cedar casket, lined with the purest white silk. She was picturesque even in death, dressed beautifully in her favorite gown. It was a lovely sea foam that brought out the blue in her eyes, made of a light chiffon. Marcel felt a tugging on his dress pants, and turned to see a distraught Kurt looking up at him. Sensing the boy's distress, he laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, his way of making sure Kurt knew he was there for him. Kurt's mouth quirked into the slightest of smiles, one that was quickly forgotten when he spoke.

"I picked it out." he said simply, taking Marcel's hand off his shoulder and clutching it protectively. Marcel could tell he wasn't referring to when they chose it out of hundreds for Elizabeth's dinner at the Waldorf. He gave Kurt's hand a reassuring squeeze and pulled him closer. He turned sharply, startled, when he heard someone clear their throat next to them. Marcel turned to see a man about his age, looking at the two of them with an unreadable expression. He had a kind face, and he was slightly balding, but not bad looking altogether. Marcel felt Kurt stiffen a little next to him, and he could only wonder why. The man held his hand out to Marcel, shaking it firmly.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Burt Hummel. Kurt's father."


End file.
